


Intermediate

by Nifawiwa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anti-Villain Peter, BAMF Peter Parker, Emotionally hurt Peter, Kinda, May Parker is distressed, Mentally unstable Peter Parker, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Parker with a screwed up past, Peter Parker working alone, Playing for both sides Peter, Sleeping Pills, The Stark internship is actually a Stark internship, Tony doesn't know who Spider-man is, Tony trying to act like Peter's mentor, basically Peter Parker gets Peter Darker, because screw canon, but is still wonderful, depends on what you call dark really, he's not crazy though, kinda dark Peter, man I love that tag, okay maybe a bit, set after civil war, sleeping disorders, surprise, then Tony trying to act like Peter's parental figure, therapy sessions, who am I kidding he plays for his own, who she
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifawiwa/pseuds/Nifawiwa
Summary: There was no right or wrong thing to do - there was only a thing hewantedandneededto do.If that meant destroying buildings - so be it. If that meant rescuing the people from their wreckage - consider it done.Everything would have been perfect if he hadn't gotten under none other than Tony Stark's radar.***Or the one where Peter plays for both sides.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What am I doing really  
> Okay yeah I know but _really_  
>  Throwing myself into another fanfic, oh god  
> But I like it so sue me  
> Anyways, enjoy the ride

The sky was cloudy.

Not a single star shone through the thick blanket.

Even the moon.

Peter hummed quietly, drumming his fingers against the cold, wet bricks.

That was good.

Without the bright beacon, the streetlights weren't quite enough to illuminate the roof he was perched upon. One would have to look specifically for a figure way up here to notice him. The odds of that happening were low enough, given that most people were mainly concerned with the road or a phone in front of them. They were all far, far away.

The familiar warm feeling once again invaded his body and Peter sighed lightly.

That was really good.

It was such a delight to gaze upon the labyrinths of bright streets, observe every dark scurrying person, hear their casual murmur, angry and drunken shouts and  _ know  _ none of them were aware of his watchful eyes. The area buzzed with melodiously, as if a current of life, sometimes crashing into another, intertwining with its flow, and continuing to drift on its merry way, never quite reaching anywhere near the bases of the lonely teen's feet.

The solace was head-spinning.

Peter swayed his legs merrily from the ledge as his hands twiddled with a small device. As the fixed date neared, his excitement grew proportionally, and consequently – his fidgeting. For the past hour a nagging thought kept complaining that he should have set an earlier time or even just start it  _ now _ , ( _ why wait any longer _ ) but he kept chasing it away. God knows his impatience could equally be a gift and a curse. Last time he allowed his enthusiasm take the lead, a month's worth of planning got thrown in the wind. He nearly even lost an arm, and Peter was rather skeptical of the idea of repeating the experience.

Not for the arm, of course.

Besides, there was a bit more at stake this time.

A gust of chilly wind sent shivers down his back and Peter weakly wrapped his arms around himself. It would be  _ wonderful  _ if he somehow figured out a way to enforce his suit to better keep him warm. Not that Peter minded the cold that much – however, since his “work schedule” mostly consisted of night hours, the chilling weather was indeed becoming quite bothersome.

_ Add that to the never-ending list of to-do things. _

_...Hold that thought. _

Peter tilted a bit downwards and narrowed his eyes at a certain individual leaning against a lamppost. His attention was focused on what appeared to be his phone, not paying much attention to his surroundings.

A frown crept onto Peter's lips.

_ What's the police doing here? _

He was certain he had that little obstacle taken care of long ago.

The teen's eyes quickly darted around the area and the bubble of worry deflated a bit once he noticed that this was, in fact, the only policeman in the area. Most likely someone left their post or were just stalling their return. However inconvenient, these things happened. Besides, it wasn't as if Peter didn't have backup plans for his backup plans, so there was no actual reason to fret.

He glanced at the his watch – 7 more minutes. Plenty of time.

Peter swiftly turned his body towards his already prepared and waiting for further commands computer. At first glance for any regular human the screen may have appeared black, but Peter's sharp vision could easily discern the various shades of gray, considerably makings his tasks less troubling. And while Peter loved a good challenge as much as the next over-enthusiastic teen, he preferred not to draw any attention to himself by having a blinding source of light. Instead, he settled for a less conspicuous setting.

''Sorry, Mr Policeman, but you'll have to finish texting somewhere else,'' Peter murmured to himself as his fingers flew over the keyboard in great haste. ''This place is reserved for tonight.''

Only after a couple of minutes, his goal was achieved – the man's phone began ringing. It took only a few seconds of dialogue for him to bolt from his place to his car and leave in a hurry. Soon enough, he was out of sight and the area was, once again, secured.

Peter sighed in relief.

Everything had to be  _ absolutely  _ perfect.

Not a single hair out of place.

He absentmindedly moved a stray lock from his vision.

4 minutes.

With that thought in mind, he once again mentally ran through every point, then checked if all the preparations were indeed ready and working. This was one of the more important... nights, so naturally he was a bit giddy. Failure was not an option.

It never was.

2 minutes.

Peter grabbed his muddied backpack and took out his mask. His excitement spiked – the last part of his costume inflicted such a reaction almost every time. There was something heavenly about pulling the gourmet over his head, feeling the fabric cover every inch of his previously exposed skin, knowing his eyes were safely hidden behind the gray lenses. It was... exhilarating.

As if a switch flicked once the chocolate-colored mask connected with the rest of his suit.

As if he jumped higher above the raging current.

1 minute 10 seconds.

The teen again faced the computer and entered a couple of commands. A confirmation showed up and a countdown began. A lopsided grin tugged at his lips as he closed the laptop and shoved it into his backpack. Hiding it was never one of his strong suits, but this time he took extra precaution.

...By that he meant placing it inside one of the stray boxes on the roof.

In Peter's defense, he shouldn't take long and even  _ if  _ someone found it, they wouldn't be able to locate anything suspicious. He at least made sure of  _ that. _

There were more pressing matters at hand, anyway.

Peter watched the seconds tick intently with a trembling heart.

3... 2... 1...

He snapped his fingers.

The whole block was immediately enveloped in darkness, every single electronic device shutting down. The casual murmur was replaced by confusion and outrage, some people bumping into each other and a tint of alarm.

A small bird fluttered in the teen's chest.

''Still got it,'' he whispered under his breath.

He should try a neighborhood next.

Peter's eyes trained on a group of _totally_ _inconspicuous_ black-clothed individuals as they quickly approached a certain building in front of him and entered it without a second of doubt. Even from this distance Peter could easily see each of them wielded weapons of different sorts, and the security was all but shut down. The police also won't be bothering for a good amount of time, so naturally, it was perfect.

Peter grinned widely.

It was  _ indeed  _ perfect. His work always was.

One more glance to his watch.

It was almost time for the second part.

His hands were itching for some action, his whole body slightly bouncing up and down. He once read that there were two types of people: those who were only concerned about arriving, and those who adored the journey itself. Peter believed he belonged to both, however that worked.

_ Did she ask to bring something from the store? _

Memory failed him. It didn't matter.

_ Time! _

Peter's fingers wrapped tightly around the small device and he pressed the button on top of it with his thumb.

An underground explosion rumbled through the area and the rather large building shook dangerously, its foundations trembling. The concerned murmur was quickly replaced by worried and panicked shouts. People began to scramble, some while cursing considerably loudly.

... _ Ah jeez. _

''That was a bit too strong, wasn't it?..'' Peter muttered, nibbling on his lower lip. He slapped his forehead with a groan. ''Again! God,  _ take note _ !''

_...Hopefully that won't cause any issues with them. _

Not that it would matter that much.

Peter crushed the mechanism beyond recognition and hid it inside one of the loose bricks. He'd have to dispose of that later.

In the meantime...

The teen jumped to his feet and onto the ledge, nerves spiking through his entire body.

_ Part three, baby. _

Web – shot. Peter took a breath.

One step-- and he was falling. If only for a second. However, that short moment was enough to shoot adrenaline through his veins, make the bird in his chest slam against its cage and clear his mind completely of any thoughts, or, better yet, override it with the sheer amount of them. To any bystander it would have appeared it was an exhilarating, joy-invoking beat, but in reality...

If only for a second... he had no control.

Then, the trajectory changed and soon enough his feet planted on the wet pavement. Around him people were flailing in confusion or running away from the endangered area, shouts of fear and concern following them. First, all the lights went out, then – an explosion. The reaction came as no surprise and Peter used it to his advantage.

''Uh miss, I'm sorry, miss?'' he quickly approached a frightened woman who was tripping over her feet in an attempt to jog away. ''The explosion-- it came from that building, right?''

Her eyes darted around frantically before settling on the new-comer.

''I-I, uh, I think-- I think so?'' she breathed out, shaking her head. ''God, is there no safe place left in this city?..'' he wailed miserably.

They always tended to react this way. Not that it caused any inconvenience, quite the opposite.

''Don't worry, ma'am, you just leave, I'm already on it!'' Peter saluted her and sprinted off towards the place of his attention.

Witnesses – secured.

It took him no time to enter the building all the while making sure to stay out of sight, the ceiling being his temporary best friend. Naturally, a couple of men had to be holding all the people in the reception hostages, so he couldn't exactly risk bolting in. Hiding in the shadows, he crawled inside and quickly assessed the situation. Three men with rather strange guns ( _ okay... What even are those?.. Take note _ ) were keeping everyone else on their knees, hands behind their heads.

Hostage count – ten.

_...Easy enough. _

Lowering himself slowly down his web behind the men's back, he promptly lifted his finger to his mouth as a signal for the hostages who actually noticed him to keep quiet. Judging by their wide eyes and trembling lips he doubted they would be able to say anything in any case, though. Better safe than sorry.

Peter cleared his throat.

''Jeez, you fellas  _ really  _ have no respect for late-night workers.''

Midway his sentence the attackers swung around in surprise, and Peter wasted no time neutralizing the threat by first ( _ note already taken, yes _ ) swiftly robbing them of their weapons with his webs before they even had a chance to blink, and only  _ then  _ engaging in actual combat. While three on one was hardly a challenge for him, he preferred to keep any weapons out of the playing ground.

Without them, the rest of the fight passed in a heartbeat.

After making sure the oppressors were indeed unconscious or at least unable to move, Peter turned to the stunned hostages.

''Alright, folks, your shifts're over, good work today, now go!'' the teen gestured for them to scram to the exit. ''Oh and could someone please alert the police? They seem to be a bit behind today.''

The people wasted no time in getting to their shaky feet and running towards the entrance. Most only shot Peter strange or thankful glances, yet there were a few who actually thanked him vocally. The last woman, however, grabbed his forearm once she had wobbled to him, her eyes wide as saucers.

''Th-There were... A lot- A lot more went down-- t-to the vaults!..'' she tried to express her distress as clearly as possible. ''There are s-still people down there!''

Peter had to gather all his willpower not to recoil at the physical ( _ disgusting _ ) contact.

''Got it, ma'am, don't worry, I'm on it,'' he nodded at her, and as a excuse to execute his task snatched his arm out of her grasp. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran off.

The unpleasant ( _ revolting _ ) feeling lingered.

_ Howdarethatwoman-- _

Peter inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Was now the time?

_...No. _

It was already over,  _ it's already over _

Quickly enough, he had shaken the touch out of his mind.

_ Nevermind that. _

Hostages – rescued.

So far so good.

He could almost feel his goal with the tips of his fingers.

Only a couple of stages left.

Soon enough, Peter reached his destination – that much was obvious by the lingering smell of smoke and melting metal. And perhaps the shouts. Yeah, those too.

Also by the fact that Peter knew the structure of this building as the back of his hand by now.

The rest of the group was at the end of securing their winnings by shoving everything of any value to them in the large vault into their bags. Peter had to applaud the professor for deciding to keep his valuables in this certain bank – no one would even dare to think someone of such a high status would trust a bank of this caliber. If not for Peter's ingenuity that would have stayed the case for a long while.

Unfortunately, if Peter set his sight on something, there was no escaping it.

No matter how long that might take.

Upon entering the room, the teen glanced at the unconscious guards – none of them seemed to be dead or in any immediate danger. It was... rather strange, but again, he couldn't ponder about it for too long. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned against the door-frame.

''Uh, guys, I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's not how loans work.''

Chaos ensued.

This time it was six against one, and while, again, it barely posed any threat to him, Peter had to use his creativity to actually make it seem so. So naturally, that was a bit more of a challenge. Not one he couldn't handle, though, far from it-- every string was still safely wrapped around his fingers. As they always were.

Their tightness burned his soul with delight.

However, he did have to admit that the action like the one he was in the middle of came in close second in terms of excitement.

''You guys barely give any challenge!'' Peter teased the remaining men as he knocked another unconscious, making certain his pretend lack of breath was heard loud and clear. ''Jeez, who  _ hired  _ you?''

Peter snickered to himself.

_ Oh I'm killing it tonight. _

''Why the hell are you always interfering? This doesn't concern you, insect!'' one of them, the main dragon head, hissed venomously, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

''Actually, spiders are arachnids, and, uh, yeah, it does, so, um, sorry, pal, but it's not your lucky day for trivia,'' Peter retorted lightly, engaging again.

_ Would one be enough?.. _

_...Maybe two for insurance. _

Once only a pair of attackers were left standing, Peter deemed it enough and with great care made sure their next hit would land successfully. For him, of course.

As one's foot connected with his temple and sent him flying to the wall, Peter yelped in pain and remained unmoving, feigning unconsciousness.

_...Okay that hurt a bit too much. _

But, well, it did its job, so the teen didn't complain.

Peter laid in the rather uncomfortable position and listened as the remaining men promptly gathered whatever the two of them could carry and bolted out of the room, not surprisingly leaving their fellow “associates” behind.

_ No, seriously, who would  _ **_actually_ ** _ hire these guys? They're more unprofessional than the thugs in my neighborhood. _

Those thugs, mind you, were only children playing pretend. Peter made sure that the real ones would be long gone.

After their hasty footsteps were out of a normal person's earshot, Peter immediately jumped to his feet. He swiftly checked everyone else in the room, making sure they were all knocked out and would not cause any trouble either now of afterwards. The teen had to act _ quick – _ sirens were already wailing. That left him with only a few minutes.

Peter entered the broken down by his own explosives vault and scanned the area. Soon enough, he located his target, untouched. Of course, who would bother themselves with an old, rundown computer? Peter, of course, counted on that mistake.

He hooked the device to a makeshift outlet in his suit which should power it for at least a short while, and turned it on. To no surprise, the computer was password-protected. Not that Peter expected a different case. He pulled down his sleeve and extracted a small chip from underneath it. In under half a minute it was securely implanted in the computer and the cracking had begun. To Peter's relief, it didn't take long and quickly afterwards all the files became accessible to his fidgeting fingers.

The intruder proceeded to copy every single one onto his chip.

_ God why is the bar moving so slowly... _

The sirens were screaming too close for comfort already.

Peter glanced over his shoulder. The men were still splayed across the floor, unmoving. Perhaps he should make his waiting productive and tie up the attackers.

Yeah, that was a neat idea.

The screeching of tires reached Peter's over-sensitive ears. His jaw tightened and after the last string he jumped back to the computer.

_ 92 %. _

Sweat beads began gathering on his palms. He absentmindedly rubbed them together, his sandpaper-like tongue licking his slightly trembling lips.

Peter's eyes closely tracked every percent while his ears were strained for any incoming danger.

One would have thought he would get used to this part of his work by now. And yet, his heart was desperately trying to break free, jumping all the way up to his throat as if believing an escape path laid there.

He thought he could  _ never  _ get used to this feeling.

Not that he wished to. Quite the opposite.

Who needed drugs or alcohol if such intense level of exhilaration was easily achievable by far more thrilling means?

And by far more...  _ controllable  _ ones, too.

100 %.

Peter snatched the chip out, hid it beneath his sleeve again, unhooked all the wires and placed the computer back to its exact previous spot. It would, of course, be preferable if no suspicion rose regarding the device at all, but even if it did, Peter already took care of the precautions.

At least, that appeared so, based on the gunshots upstairs.

_ Two should have been enough. _

Peter decided it would be best to find out by himself. It would cause some inconvenience if his main plan failed.

Nevertheless...

Files – acquired.

_ Last thing left. _

Peter ran up the stairs to the main story and shot through the door as if in a hurry. Naturally, he caught the attention of the several policemen securing the men he had left knocked out on his way in. Again, to no surprise, they raised their guns at him in wary, but Peter spoke before any of them opened their mouths.

''Oh hey, guys, glad to see you showed up,'' the teen waved his hand at them in greeting, his voice painted with cheer. ''There're four of 'em left downstairs, and don't worry, they're all tided nicely and waiting for you. Though I, uh, think a couple escaped,'' he rubbed his neck sheepishly, his eyes darting around. Four men were in handcuffs. Relief washed over him – it was indeed a wonderful idea to choose two. ''But you caught one! Nice, and sorry about the other, will do better next time. Oh and there are some I think guards there, too, who would probably do well with some medical attention.''

''Right, and who the hell are  _ you  _ exactly?'' one of the policemen barked, his eyes narrowed. ''What are you doing here and how do we know you're not with 'em?''

Peter feigned surprise.

''Oh, you haven't heard about me? Jeez, and I was trying so hard...'' he sighed with a shake of his head. ''Well, I'm just trying to help, really, ask anyone, and, well, I did, um, kinda do your job here... Not trying to offend you, though!'' his hands shot up in defense. ''I think you're great, big fan and everything, so we're really on the same page here.''

''So you're, what, some sort of vigilante?'' “ _ Like we don't have enough of those _ ” was left hanging in the air.

''Well, I prefer just Spider-man, thank you,'' Peter grinned. ''So, uh, I'm running a bit late here, so I'll be taking my leave now, if you don't mind.''

''We do, in fact, mind, we have a lot questions for you,  _ justice warrior-- _ ''

''Nope, sorry, really gotta run!'' the teen cut the man off, shooting his webs over their heads. In a case of escaping, guns posed barely any threat to him – Peter didn't want to brag, but he had more or less mastered the art of running away. ''You're welcome, by the way!''

The night's chill enveloped the pronounced-vigilante once again, and the shouts behind him died down to his ears. He filled his lungs with its refreshing air and exhaled in delight. It took him merely several seconds to land back on the roof he had left earlier tonight.

He ran a couple of meters forwards, disappearing from anyone's sight, and froze.

For a couple of moments he focused on his breathing.

His eyes were trained on everything and nothing.

Slowly, a wide grin crept onto his lips and Peter's body jumped upwards, a quiet exclaim filled with joy escaping his throat. His still trembling fingers found the edges of his mask and he pulled the brown, slightly bloodied material off. Air currents rushed through his already unruly locks and Peter closed his eyes against the stinging invisible daggers, yet the sensations brought only pleasure.

Peter wanted to sing.

Every single strand was pulled accordingly, and never once did his hands waver, never once did any strand offer an ounce of resistance.

Everything had gone  _ absolutely _ perfectly.

_ Itdiditdiditdid _

His body was drowning in glee and satisfaction – no reward or achieved goal could rival such a divine feeling.

...

_ Mission – success. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh there's this lil thing called motivation that kinda keeps us all writers here going and producing material for y'all, but that essence ain't gonna come out of thin air, so if you could spare a moment of your time and left a comment it would be greatly appreciated, really. Same old song, but c'mon, guys, I type, you type, equivalent exchange yo  
> Every kudo is appreciated, too! Thank you, loves, helps me start my day!  
> Next chap should be up in between one week and two  
> Thank you whoever read this far! Warms my heart ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys due to some things I decided to post this one up a bit earlier than I had planned so uhhh guess that's good news?  
> Also thank you all so much for your love! It means the world to me, it really do.
> 
> Oh and before you continue, a small warning - since Peter's personality is obviously somewhat different here, his relationships are as well, and what I mean is that most are a bit worse. You'll see what I mean, so just bear with it for now.
> 
> I also changed the summary since uhh it felt too long and this one just seems more to the point. Thanks and enjoy!

A quiet, melodious hum rang through the small area as Peter closed the door behind him, twisted the key and took off his muddied shoes. The remains of the roaring storm outside still echoed loudly in his head, even if the raging nature had already subsided into a gentle drizzle. Small droplets of rain dripped from the teen's soaked hair, and he absentmindedly tousled it, his thoughts still wandering somewhere far away. No matter how many times he reminisced about tonight's success, nothing appeared out of place. Even if he missed something, he doubted it was of any importance – at the end of the day, the chip with all those priceless files was safely tucked in his pocket. His heart fluttered once more at the mere thought.

Quickly enough, however, Peter's musings were disrupted.

Light footsteps reached his ears and the teen lifted his eyes just in time to meet a rather nervous May.

She attempted to arch her lips into a smile.

It appeared shaky.

''Welcome back,'' she greeted him, folding her arms. ''How was today?''

Peter only shrugged as he unzipped his jacket and hung it.

May bit her lower lip. Her eyes darted all over the boy.

''You didn't bring your umbrella like I t-- advised you.''

''Didn't think it would rain,'' Peter answered nonchalantly.

The woman exhaled through her nose.

''You _never_ do. Peter, I don't want you to catch a cold, but you will if you keep doing this.''

''I won't,'' was his simple respond as he walked past her into the kitchen. He was nearly starving.

It was obvious May wished to argue further, but she swallowed it. Instead, she sighed and followed her nephew.

''There's, um... Your dinner's in the, uh, oven,'' she spoke quietly, gesturing to nothing in particular. ''Didn't know when you were planning to come back,'' her mirthless chuckles had an edge of misery to them.

''Yeah, thanks,'' Peter murmured without batting an eye at his aunt's tone and went to search for food where instructed.

May shut her eyes tightly for a second and inhaled a deep breath. With a slightly trembling hand she fixed her glasses and once again looked at Peter. She was about to say something again but her eyes finally registered a certain detail.

''Peter-- what is that?'' her voice was laced with sudden worry as she promptly approached the teen's side. ''Is that--Did you injure yourself _again_?!.. Oh god, are you okay?''

''It's nothing, I'm fine,'' the teen waved her off as he proceeded to fill his plate up. His gaze was actively avoiding the tense woman. ''Just a scratch. Know that ledge by the stairs? Easy to trip over.''

'' _Just a--_!'' May covered her mouth and shook her head. It appeared she was trying to compose herself, but that task was easier said than done. She may have some trouble. ''I don't even-- I don't know what to think anymore. What did I ever do for you to--!''

A chocked pause. Peter knew what was coming. It always did, eventually. Sometimes, it drove him insane. Other times... he was just tired.

''May--''

''No, Peter, no,'' the woman cut him off, her hands clenching into fists and unclenching. ''You don't get to-- You don't get to “ _May_ ” me, not like this. I've been so, _so_ patient, so do _not_ give me that look!..''

Her tone had a tint of desperation. She flailed her arms around and gestured to the clock on the faraway wall.

''Have you looked at your watch at least _once_? It's _one in the morning_ , Peter, it's damn _one in the morning_ , you're just a kid and I have absolutely no idea where you've been or what the hell you've been doing and then you just-- I mean, really? _Tripped_? _Just a scratch_? Your head is-is basically _smashed_ in, you could even have a concussion, and you just--just..!''

May tugged at her messy hair tightly, a pained moan escaping her trembling lips. She leaned against the counter and slumped her slender shoulders with another shake of her head. Tears were threatening to spill, but she kept them at bay.

It was obvious the woman was in great distress.

Peter was fully aware of its reasons.

He pursed his lips. Words were beginning to form on his tongue, but a hushed voice silenced him.

''I've been doing everything you asked,'' May sounded strained. Weak. She kept her tired eyes on the tiled floor. ''I don't ask where you've been. I don't ask what you've been doing. I know you'd lie if I did. I've been lenient for _so_ long, letting you do _anything_ you wanted. Maybe I shouldn't have, but... I thought that would be best for you. I trusted you would be smart and take care of yourself, and I still do, but-- but you keep coming back at unholy hours all _beaten_ up, and I just--'' a small, silent sob shook her frame. ''I don't know what to do anymore. God, I really don't...''

Silence enveloped the pair.

Peter was staring intently at his aunt. His mind was strangely quiet.

For some reason, he had difficulty breathing.

As if something heavy laid on his chest.

The feeling was... unorthodox. He couldn't quite label it.

Or perhaps he had indeed caught a cold.

Whatever the case was, he couldn't ignore it. He had to find a remedy and a quiet voice whispered he should try approaching his aunt.

And so he did.

For a moment Peter nibbled on the inside of his cheek and watched the slightly shaking woman as if contemplating a difficult math problem.

The solution brought a frown.

Nevertheless, Peter slowly inhaled, exhaled, and forced his hand to lift. It was strange – it felt as if the limb didn't belong to him or was filled with lead. Nevertheless, his muscles obeyed. However, before placing it on the woman's bare shoulder, he hesitated. His whole body was screaming in protest, but he ignored the shrieks and made contact.

May's head shot up and her wide from surprise eyes locked with Peter's.

The touch burned them both. Even if in different senses.

''May, I...'' the teen started with a sigh. ''I know. I understand. I know that-- that it's hard for you to trust me, so I really appreciate you still doing so. I want to--'' he blinked once. A short pause. ''--But there's nothing going on. I stay late to study and just lose track of time. And it's difficult to get through the city during the night without getting hurt, you know. So there's nothing for you to worry about.''

May blinked the welling up tears away and tilted her head.

A strained smile found its way onto her lips.

She didn't believe him.

She didn't comment on it.

''Peter... Please, just be safe. I couldn't bare it if I lost you, too,'' she spoke quietly as she tentatively placed her own hand onto Peter's and caressed it gently. The touch sent his already screeching nerves into a frenzy, but Peter fought the raging urge to pull away. ''I love you, Pete, never forget that.''

_...That's enough._

The teen took a step back and retracted his hand. May's stayed on her shoulder. She seemed wistful.

''Yeah... I know.''

He grabbed the cold plate and left his aunt alone.

 

After quietly closing and locking his door, Peter threw his backpack onto his bed and placed the plate on the nightstand. The room was drowning in darkness, and the teen's hand pondered on the light switch for a moment. He really wished to rest as soon as possible, but he knew he'd have to bear through it for awhile. Without thinking about it too much, Peter flicked it on and stretched his still body a bit as a yawn formed in his throat. Sleep-deprivation was slowly yet surely creeping up into his consciousness, the edges of his vision already slightly blurring.

 _After this_ , he soothed himself for the nth time, _I'll definitely get a full night's sleep._

May was beginning to grow suspicious about her rapidly decreasing medication, so Peter couldn't risk continuing that little scheme.

He would never ask for it himself, though. That wretched therapist had only recently gotten off his back. There was no way Peter was throwing all that effort out the window for a couple hours of sleep.

The teen sighed and plumped down on his squeaking bed.

He had more important things to take care of at the moment.

Peter took out his computer from his bag and scooted to the wall until his back was comfortably against it. After he had opened his laptop, he searched for a pair of gloves under his pillow. This device held incredibly sensitive information that if discovered would cause Peter serious trouble and would most likely lock him up until his next life. The only way in was with a passcode – and Peter couldn't afford giving any hints on that through his imprudence. And if someone attempted to hack into it, every single file would be immediately erased.

...Peter couldn't exactly risk forgetting his passcode, too.

Without wasting any time, he began to work. The brightness was now on a minimal level and Peter's gloved fingers were swiftly flying over the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen. It was a magnificent idea to invest in that computer – the teen couldn't imagine performing such operations on his old one. Or setting up any form of higher security. Besides, the smoothness was flawless, which was certainly an added bonus.

Soon enough, an encrypted server appeared with one person already on it.

Peter preferred to tie any loose ends before continuing with his own errands.

- _G: what the hell took you so long?_ -

A small grin tugged at his lips and his hands typed out a quick response.

- _R: Unhappy much?_ -

- _G: no im pissed. The mission was a fucking failure_ -

- _R: I wouldn't call it that. You definitely seem like you made it out, and not without some extra. Congrats on that by the way, I'm sure your wife will love a new mug_ -

Perhaps he enjoyed these sort of conversations a bit too much.

- _G: are you fucking twelve? Dont patronize me, this is all your fault_ -

- _R: And how is it now my fault?_ -

- _G: you didnt keep your end of the deal. You were supposed to keep all those annoying pricks off the streets_ -

Yet sometimes, they were a handful. Peter pursed his lips and responded:

- _R: Uh, no. Our deal specifically said I would get you into the bank, vault and stall the police until your escape. There were no terms concerning your little friend from tonight or any of his other fellow vigilantes, so the blame's all on you_ -

- _G: only the cops came to soon, bastard_ -

- _R: Again, no. You were already out of the building by the time they entered the bank. Sorry, guess you'll have to be more specific with what you want next time_ -

Peter could almost imagine the man on the other side of the screen pulling his hair out and cursing the living hell out of the teen. Perhaps he should have taken a more diplomatic approach, but his impulses were sometimes difficult to repress.

He already acquired what he needed, anyway.

- _G: youre a scumbag, you know that? I swear you planned all this_ -

Now this was getting interesting.

- _R: Have you just seriously accused me of double-crossing?_ -

A pause.

The man seemed to realize he crossed an invisible line.

Peter had to draw it for them somewhere, right?

- _G:...no. Of course not. Wasn't thinking straight_ -

- _R: Obviously, but it's fine. I would really appreciate it if that didn't happen again_ -

- _R: :)_ -

Peter enjoyed pushing his own, seeing how much they all would bend.

It never failed to surprise him.

- _R: Anyway. If you calmed down, let's get back on track. We were talking about the deal?_ -

- _G: yeah, but cmon, there's gonna be complications_ -

- _R: Yup, and that's understandable. Tell you what – keep everything, get back on your feet, all that stuff, and forget about your end of the deal_ -

- _G: ...seriously?_ -

- _R: Yeah, but you'll owe me a favor, got it?_ -

- _G: uh, yeah, sure, whatever you say_ -

Peter's grin widened and he subconsciously bit on his thumb's fingernail.

It was almost too easy.

- _R: Great! Oh and one more thing before you go-- got a tip about a new kind of weapons you used tonight. Mind filling me in?_ -

- _G: it's just something that showed up in the area recently. Expensive but powerful stuff, thought it would make things easier_ -

- _R: Well you should probably learn to use it first, kinda ineffective otherwise. Who's the dealer?_ -

- _G: don't know, didn't work with him directly. Only through his lackeys, who didn't really say much_ -

His face scrunched up lightly, fingers drumming on the keyboard.

_Take note: look into more_

Peter erased all the accidental letters and typed his reply.

- _R: I see. Well, in any case, next time warn me in advance if you'll be working with someone else, too, or all future deals will be off._ -

- _G: ...understood_ -

- _R: Night then!_ -

He got offline.

That went well.

Another yawn fought its way to the surface and Peter didn't attempt to bite it down. He rubbed his slightly misty eyes, deciding it was enough work for one day. Of course, his hands were itching to rummage through every speck of that chip, but he knew he would not be able to focus enough to decrypt everything in his current state. Besides, he could wait, those files were not going anywhere anytime soon.

His eyes, however, still wandered to the slumped bag. Excitement had yet to leave his system and he wished to exploit that a little bit.

The bed creaked quietly as Peter reached for the backpack and brought it closer. If he could not work on the coded information, perhaps he could shift his attention to something smaller. His suit, for example.

Peter pulled the enhanced garment, gloves and mask out and laid it out flat on the mattress. He brought his thumb to his teeth as he carefully examined the suit. It certainly looked better than the last version – a slight wince momentarily twisted his features at the cringe-worthy memory. This time he actually put a lot of effort into stylizing and sewing the thing. The materials weren't cheap, too, so all in all it was a decent piece of work.

However, Peter was not satisfied, far from it.

The teen absentmindedly traced the black fabric of the suit's lower part with his fingertips, moving all the way up over the brown chest to the equally-colored mask. He had even taken the design one step further and embroidered the material with dark-orange stitches, as if a web. Peter had decided to go for more traditional colors, given that his name _was_ “ _Spider-_ man”, but now doubt began to invade his mind. Was it perhaps too much? Sure, his main motivation for such a palette instead of a colorful one was “ _less eye-catching_ ”, only later recognizable, but maybe he resembled a spider a bit more than he wanted to. Most people weren't exactly fond of arachnids to begin with. His outfit most likely did him little justice with the public, but with a small sigh Peter decided he shouldn't change it regardless. In the night, it served him well and that was its main task. All he had to do was make sure his actions covered what his appearance didn't.

Even if he himself disliked ( _despised_ ) it.

Even if the now so seemingly innocent image before him burned his eyes.

Even if he wished to tear it apart, crush the webshooters into dust, shatter both of those ( _hideous_ ) lenses and never again see the haunting costume or the even-more-so person inside it.

His breath hitched and he almost chocked as a sudden wave of nausea washed over him.

_Goddammit._

A groan bubbled up in his throat as Peter buried his face in his slightly trembling hands.

He shouldn't have allowed his mind to wander.

Nails dug into his skin.

He had to focus.

_This is what I want._

Stop thinking otherwise.

_I really do want this._

Prove it.

_I chose this. This was **my** decision._

You don't fear it.

_It brings me excitement. It does, it really really does._

So stop contradicting yourself.

Say it.

''I want this,'' Peter breathed out, his quiet, distant voice muffled. ''I chose this. I control this.''

Those words kept leaving his lips like a mantra while the teen attempted to mute everything else his over-sensitive hearing picked up, all those tires screeching, lampposts buzzing, people chatting, walls thundering, spiders crawling--

Knocking.

A pause.

Peter slowly removed his hands from his face and bewilderedly looked over his shoulder at the door as if it had just grown a head. Blinking a few times, his shoulders slumped once realization dawned upon his disheveled mind.

_That was such a stupid tick._

''What is it?'' he called out.

''Pete, you still up?'' May's timid voice reached beyond the wood. ''It's getting very late, honey, you should-- you should try to get some sleep.''

''Yeah, I know, in a minute.''

The woman hesitated for a brief moment.

''Goodnight, Peter, rest well.''

He didn't bother to answer. Light footsteps soon enough retreated down the corridor into May's room.

Peter shifted his eyes back on his bed. At least that short interaction steered his attention away and he once again regained his bearings.

_Take note, again: don't let mind wander_

He focused on the task at hand – finish the examination of his suit.

Perhaps anyone else would just postpone it, but Peter was certain this time he would keep his intrusive thoughts at bay.

Besides, the teen more or less knew why he was unsatisfied with it.

He unzipped the costume from behind and quickly found the place near its hip where he had that makeshift power outlet installed. With a bit of fiddling he unhooked the device and pulled it out. A frown crept onto his lips. This uncomfortable and far too vulnerable piece was the only technology besides his webshooters that had been part of his suit. That was the main problem – his costume was hilariously underdeveloped. If Peter wished to climb that shaky ladder up towards his goal and fry bigger fish, he knew he was in desperate need of an upgrade, not only his suit's.

The vigilante was, however, painfully aware of his lack of recourses.

Of course, he could try to organize a raid on some more science-oriented buildings, but the ones in his field of attention had far higher security than any average bank, so that would cause a lot of trouble with his current equipment. Not to mention hardly anyone in his radar would be interested in actually performing the attack. So before that he would need to broaden his horizon in terms of “associates”, but in order to achieve that he had to put more weight onto his name, and Peter was pretty certain that would take an excruciating amount of time, since he was already at the limit with his current equipment.

Peter groaned and fell back onto his bed, his hand moving to rub his eyes. He felt stuck in a loop. No matter how much he mused, nowadays he usually came to the same conclusion – need more resources, resources, _resources_. The Black Market was always an option, and acquiring money was an easy enough feat, but until now he stayed out it, since it always posed multiple threats. Leak of information, for one. Or not enough security for the items Peter had set his eyes upon. Whenever he needed something, he always obtained it by himself with no one else involved and no loose ends hanging. Simply put, at the moment at least that option was just too risky.

He needed to find an alternative mean.

Perhaps he was too exhausted for such ponders now.

With that thought in mind, Peter folded his suit and placed it back into his bag along with his laptop, afterwards shoving it under his bed. In the middle of it his eyes caught the plate of food still patiently waiting for him on the nightstand. The cold meatloaf with slightly burned potatoes on any other day may have appeared a little unappetizing, but with how loudly the teen's stomach growled at the sight he didn't complain one bit about it. Instead, he scooted over to the stand and began feasting on his late night meal.

Strangely enough, it was still somewhat warm. For some reason, took him aback.

He momentarily stopped chewing. That weird, unpleasant feeling from before tingled at the edges of his consciousness. Peter swallowed the mouthful and pursed his lips. He still couldn't identify its origin, despite it making an appearance once in awhile. As if dull nails attempting to reach his chest, and yet only scrapping its surface. Nevertheless, he disliked it, and wished to, first, understand it, and afterwards find a long-lasting remedy. The last thing Peter needed was another point on his already far too long list of ticks.

It always seemed to ruin his appetite, too.

With a sigh, the boy stood up and exited his room. After placing the now empty plate in the dishwasher he headed to the bathroom. Now that his head was clearer, he could feel the slight stinging near his temple. It would probably be advisable to clean the wound and wash all the blood away before calling in a night.

The mirror above the sink was once again up. Peter pursed his lips and focused his attention only on cleaning the injury. He supposed at times like these, mirrors were helpful. He decided to leave it hanging for tonight. Exhaustion would have most likely prevented him from doing otherwise, anyway.

Nevertheless, the teen wasted no time in leaving the bathroom. He wished to reach his bed as quickly as possible without any distractions, much less unwanted thoughts.

However, as Peter was passing May's room on his way back to his, quiet words still echoed through the corridor.

''You too.''

He didn't recognize his voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments keep me aliiiive  
> Well my writing at least  
> Would really appreciate it if you dropped down some thoughts, they make my day  
> Or if you just wanna talk 'bout anything, scream about Marvel or life, hit me up @ my tumblr https://nifawiwa.tumblr.com/  
> Thenks folks, stay healthy, peace


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